


Leverage

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blackmail, Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV (2016), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 01:43:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13203045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: After KIng Regis is killed in the Tenebrae ambush, Ardyn is appointed Noctis' regent. Fortunately for him, he finds a way to guarantee Noctis' compliance.





	Leverage

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt [.](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=7592750#cmt7592750)

No word reaches Insomnia of King Regis' death in Tenebrae or the capture of Prince Noctis prior to Imperial forces invading and securing the city. The Citadel is locked down, and the Niflheim chancellor has the Council brought before him. He sits on the throne and watches them executed, one by one. Ignis stands as tall as he can, witnessing their deaths.

The floor around him is tacky with blood by the time the chancellor has him brought forward. He's been looking bored by the carnage, but now he leans forward, chin on his fist, a fascinated monster. "And what are you?" he asks.

"I'm the advisor to the king of Lucis," he answers. He's not certain – did he need official confirmation to assume that role? – but his voice doesn't waver.

The monster's face lights in a wide, predatory smile. "What a pleasure to meet you," he says. "Ignis, wasn't it? It so happens I'm the royal regent. I do believe we'll be working closely for many years to come." He flicks his fingers, and soldiers pull Ignis out of the line of people waiting to be slaughtered.

He's taken to a cell on an airship, where he's made to strip naked and sit on a bench for several hours, freezing in the wind that whistles through the bars. When the soldiers come for him, he can barely uncurl and stumble upright. For the most part, he's dragged. They bring him to the medbay, where he's strapped down to a bed and drugged. The head doctor pushes fat rings through his nipples, and even in his weakened and groggy state Ignis knows this is wrong. He tries to struggle, and he's _laughed_ at.

They keep him like that for what feel like days, immobilized and with needles stuck in his arms and his legs and _between_ his legs. The puncture sites burn; he's nauseated, and his nipples throb. Metal studs are punched through his tongue, making his mouth taste like blood. He's only let up to eat and use the toilet. One day he goes to piss and finds another ring through the head of his prick. He can't remember anyone doing that to him, but there the evidence is, embedded in swollen painful flesh.

The airship finally takes off with lots of hollow banging and groans from stressed metal, and it lurches in the air currents as if barely managing to stay afloat. Ignis hurts all over, and wishes it would crash into the ocean. He is so scared he wants to die in his weaker moments, which are growing more frequent. He'd been trying to stay strong and survive for Noct's sake, but how can Noct be anything less than horrified to see what's been done to him? Ignis is increasingly certain that he's being brought to Gralea to force Noct's compliance.

He doesn't want to be a pawn in the chancellor's game. He just wants to go home. He wants his uncle alive and not with his head chopped off. He wants the King back and the wall up and everyone in Niflheim _dead_.

Two days before their arrival, he's taken to the chancellor's quarters. There's a steel desk bolted to the floor in front of the door, and beyond that a similarly-affixed bed, heaped with quilts and pillows. Ignis is so cold, he can't help staring at this luxury covetously. He tries not to show how much he hates being kept naked, but he _does_. The Niflheim soldiers are twice his size, and wear armor. He wants his glasses back, and not these cold pieces of metal that hurt and make him look like...

He tries not to think about that.

The chancellor barely looks at him as he stands there shivering, only gestures with an impatient flutter of his fingers toward the bed. The guards drag Ignis over and cuff his wrists to the bars over the window, behind the bed. He's grateful there's no one outside, to look in and see him. He's glad that, after the guards leave, the chancellor leaves him there long enough for him to worm his way into the bedding as much as he can. He knows he mustn't feel safe or protected – he's been raised among soldiers and Crownsguard and isn't sheltered, he knows what rape is. He knows the piercings are meant to be sexual, and he knows he's supposed to be terrified that he has no control. He tells himself he's prepared.

He isn't. When the chancellor finally abandons his work to walk over to the bed, Ignis' heart thuds against his ribs so hard he can't hear anything else for a moment. The chancellor pulls the quilts aside, climbing up and over Ignis, forcing his legs apart and then stabs into him with his hard prick. The pain is white-hot and unending, a million times worse than anything he's ever felt, and Ignis cries, twisting in an attempt to force _that thing_ out. Nothing works; it goes on and on. The chancellor pulls his hips up into his lap and presses in so deep that Ignis gags; but then after a minute or so he pulls out and goes back to his desk.

Neither of them spoke a word, Ignis thinks, staring out the window at the clouds and the ocean below. He can feel a growing wetness between his legs, and he wonders if he's bleeding. He doesn't look. After a little while, he gets under the quilt again because he's shaking. The chancellor does it to him two more times before night falls, and then he unchains him and makes him wash with cold water from a bucket while they wait for dinner to be brought up. The wetness turns out to be some blood but mostly a viscous black film that Ignis has to scrub off his bum and his legs with a rough towel. More of it leaks out while he's washing, and the chancellor seems to find his disgust amusing.

Ignis eats his dinner standing, because the chancellor says it would be a pity to ruin the upholstery on his sofa. When he's done, the chancellor tells him to turn the rings in his nipples and his prick. They need to be tugged at first to loosen, and he pulls too hard, so they bleed. The bread in his stomach feels like gravel, as he remembers walking through the blood in the throne room, the soles of his boots sticking, and the chancellor smiling down, the way he is now.

He pushes his chair back from the desk and tells Ignis to come, and kneel, and suck him until he's hard. He talks, while Ignis is humiliating himself, about Noct and Lunafreya and Ravus, and how they are enjoying the hospitality of the Emperor – how he's allowed to use the name _Noct_ , because they're such good friends now. He tells Ignis to use the studs in his tongue to rub his prick, and says that what happened in Tenebrae was a tragedy and a mistake – rebels, he says, with a sad shake of his head, and _the perpetrators have been apprehended_. He picks up his tablet with one hand to show Ignis a picture of Noct hugging one of Lunafreya's puppies, and digs the other into Ignis' hair, forcing his head forward so he chokes, unable to breathe, Noct's face blurring through tears.

"There, now," the chancellor says, finally relenting and pulling out. "Go get on the bed."

Ignis does, desperate to get as far away as he can, if only long enough to get his breath back. The chancellor makes him lie on his back this time, and turn the rings with his fingers. Ignis' mouth tastes like the prick driving into his bum, and he's _so tired_ he's dizzy from the effort it takes to stay alert and terrified. The chancellor keeps talking to him – he seems to be in a jolly mood, but he was like that when he started killing people, too – telling him what his life is going to be like.

"I hear you're clever," that smooth voice purrs down at Ignis, edged with anger. Ignis' half-mast eyes go wide. "I have a friend who can use clever boys."

He seems to be waiting for an answer, and Ignis has the wild impulsive desire to curse at him, with the bad words he's overheard the soldiers use. But he's more afraid of being alive and hurt than being killed; he's starting to think the chancellor likes him to hurt.

"Yes, sir," Ignis says, voice breaking badly.

The chancellor shakes his head mournfully, as if chastising bad table manners and not in the middle of (he can say it in his own head) _fucking_ him. "Yes, _Chancellor Izunia_ ," he corrects. Ignis swallows hard and parrots the words back. "Not too clever for your own good, I see."

The pause is pregnant, and Ignis sees to his burning shame how things are: Chancellor Izunia pulls the strings, and he dances. "No, Chancellor Izunia."

That seems to placate the man, who talks about his friend and his research, and about how he'll allow Ignis to see Noct several times a year. Ignis will help Noct see the good of magitek, and be a good, clever boy –

"Or _this_ is what I'll do to your dear Noctis," Izunia says, and he crushes Ignis in half under him, and his eyes are black and terrible as he makes Ignis scream, and scream, and scream.

Ignis wakes slowly. The sun is in his eyes, but he feels heavy, as if he'd barely slept. He remembers everything, but in a fog. He doesn't want clarity. He wants – the first thing he thinks of is his mother, but he tells himself he's not a child anymore. He's the King's advisor, and he _will_ see Noctis seated on the throne and ruling over Lucis, while all of Niflheim burns.

It's that small, childish flame of defiance that helps him crawl out of bed, to go bathe again at Izunia's command. He's told to wash his hair as well, and today there's soap. It stings when he scrubs over cuts and abrasions and his bum. He even washes his mouth out, scrubbing his teeth with his finger. When he's done, he's presented with his clothes, done up in a neat pile, with his glasses folded on top. He's so grateful that he nearly drops them, and he sounds desperately eager when he says, "Thank you, Chancellor Izunia."

"I'm sure you don't want Noct finding out what a little whore you are," Izunia says cheerfully, patting Ignis on the head. "Hop to, we should be landing shortly."

Ignis has never dressed faster in his life, despite how much pain he's still in – even the soles of his feet are bruised, and he doesn't remember _how_. Izunia even allows him to use the bathroom (which _hurts_ to a shocking degree), and Ignis makes sure to finger-comb his hair into place before he leaves. His face in the mirror looks the same, he tells himself. There are shadows under his eyes, that's all. Noct won't be suspicious.

When the airship jolts to a thunderous stop, Ignis realizes he'd adjusted the way he walked to adapt to the sway and lurch of flight; he's wobbly as he's marched down the gangway with Izunia's hand at the back of his shoulders, urging him forward. The whole world seems to sway around him, but he tells himself he will not stumble or fall.

 They proceed through a wide paved yard, perhaps where all the airships land, to a waiting car. Ignis has to sit in the back, between the chancellor and an official who delivers reports and goes over his schedule for the duration of the ride. They speak over Ignis' head, but he doesn't mind being ignored. He's committing everything to memory: the route they take, the information about the Insomnian occupation, what Izunia will be doing tomorrow afternoon.

They arrive at a tall building made of glass and stone. Windows inside the lobby reveal that it backs onto a beautifully landscaped garden. The fruit trees are in full bloom, and Ignis is so mesmerized by that baffling beauty when there's been so much blood shed that at first he doesn't notice the children playing on the lawn.

But once he sees Noctis, he sees nothing else.

Izunia makes an irritated sound and changes course from the elevator banks to a side passage; the hair at the back of Ignis' neck rises. He thinks the chancellor is the kind of person who reacts _very badly_ when things do not go precisely as he intended. Certainly the guards standing watch at the doors to the garden look terrified as Izunia sweeps toward them, but he says nothing to them as they quickly pull the doors open to let him pass.

"Ignis!" Noctis cries, spotting him, and shoves the rims of his wheelchair impatiently, as if that will make it go faster on grass.

Ignis doesn't think; he runs. In his head he's been telling himself Noct is the king and he's his advisor, and they have to act with the dignity of their positions. But he forgets that, forgets to be afraid of Izunia – he throws his arms around Noct's small thin shoulders and holds him, saying his name over and over. It's all he wanted, and he savors every moment.

But inevitably reality creeps back. He lets go of Noct reluctantly. Izunia is speaking with Lunafreya while her brother Ravus stands apart. He's wearing a military-styled uniform, and his hair is close-cropped; he looks angry at everything, and Ignis decides it's prudent to be wary of him.

But when, at Izunia's prompting, Ignis stumbles through his performance, telling Noct he's been offered the wonderful opportunity to go and study magitek, and that they'll see each other on the holidays, he sees Ravus cock his head and scrutinize him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Noct is devastated, clinging to Ignis' hands and begging him to stay, and Ignis can hardly bear to refuse him. When the tears have subsided into sullen betrayed silence and Ignis feels as if he's shattered something precious, he happens to glance up and meet Ravus' gaze. For a fleeting moment, he sees sympathy; Ravus very pointedly looks to Luna, then back to Ignis, and raises one eyebrow, before kneeling to play with one of the dogs.

 _Oh_ , Ignis thinks, head suddenly, painfully clear. And then, _Of course._ He hates to think of Ravus being hurt the way Izunia hurt him, but here is a mistake Izunia has made. Here is an exploitable opportunity. Ignis has an _ally_ , here in the heart of enemy territory.

Let Izunia do what he will, Ignis will endure, for as many years as it takes.

But he will see the true King seated on the Lucian throne.


End file.
